


Dance Off Revisited

by Sintina



Series: Your Brain on Ice [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dancing, Fluff and stuff, Grinding, M/M, The Big Misunderstanding Resolved, Who's Your Eros?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:29:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8845036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintina/pseuds/Sintina
Summary: Yuri flips through last year's banquet photos on Victor's phone. All this chaste time between them. All this time, Victor’s been expecting Yuri to be this other guy, the guy in the photos?!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for all the initial love this fic received overnight!  
> I made some lovely edits and threw in more dialogue, both internal and external.  
> Just for you.  
> ~ Sintina

“You must hate me,” Yuri sighs. 

Victor rolls over in his hotel bed to face Yuri, who is lying on his back on the other little bed, staring up at Victor’s phone, raised high in an outstretched hand. Yuri's thumb rapidly flips through the old photos. Victor smiles, "I could never hate you.”

“But I forgot all of this!” He flashes an image of himself clinging to Victor on the dance floor in a passionate dip, his hand dangerously high up Victor’s thigh. Yuri's free hand runs through his hair in distress. “I forgot _us_!” He shows Victor another photo of himself caressing Victor’s cheek as they spin. 

"Yuri..." Victor begins, with perhaps too much of a smirk. Walking back from the restaurant, Victor decided Yuri's memory lapse is pretty adorable. Those frustrating, wonderful months in Japan make sense now. But Yuri's tender heart always takes longer to adjust to unexpected circumstances. Victor tries to control his grin and be compassionate. "It's okay."

“Right now, _this moment_ , I don’t know what it feels like to hold you like _that_ ,” flashing another image of the two of them in an embrace. “Or touch you like _this_ ” Drunk Yuri caresses Victor’s face. Victor loves that one. He can't stop smiling. Yuri must really like the pictures, too. He's obsessed over them for an hour. But they've not yet reconciled the truth these photos represent. And Victor doesn't know how to calm Yuri down. He never does. Instead he says what he feels. 

"That's one of my favorites." 

Yuri rolls his eyes and flops his head back onto his pillow, his glasses slide higher up the bridge of his nose on the impact. Not that it matters, he stares up at nothing. “Everyone else in the world… except me… remembers…” and Yuri can’t say the words ‘me seducing you.’ He swallows hard, continues scrolling through image after image. If only he’d remembered! God, what might have happened that night in the hot spring? Victor standing there naked… at Yuri’s invitation! 

All this chaste time between them. All this time, Victor’s been expecting Yuri to be this other guy, the guy in the photos?! Eight months and only one passionate kiss, rink-side, on live TV! Sure, Yuri recently began to accept Victor's goodnight kisses. And before that, there was plenty of suggestive flirting, tons of affectionate hand-holding. Some deeply emotional hugging, the occasional bout of playful, and fruitless, nudity, like when Victor got drunk at the hot pot place. 

But mostly, it’s been months of trepid masturbation, somewhere Victor can't hear, to relieve the bluest of blue, blue balls. And for nothing! For no reason! 

Yuri readjusts his glasses and flips through the album again. The pictures begin to tease him:  
_You were already in the door._  
_You were so far in the door you could have bent Victor over one of the rocks in the hot spring that night._  
_EIGHT EFFING MONTHS AGO, man!_  
_Could’ve gotten all this sexual tension out of the way._  
_Like a man._  
_Like the real man Victor deserves._  


Fuck. The pictures won’t shut up. Yuri is shaking.

Victor always tries to be patient when Yuri gets worked up like this. He tries again, still unable to wipe the smile from his face. “Isn’t it enough that I remember how it feels to dance with you?” 

Yuri’s eyes cut over to see Victor’s head tilt, too cute and sheepish to be real. Victor does that when he’s _trying_ to be cute, when he’s not saying how he really feels. Yuri looks away, annoyed. 

Victor notices and gets serious: “Yuri, I chased that feeling around the world. Gave up my career, disappointed my coach and my fans, for that feeling.”

Yuri’s still looking at the photo staring down at him. In this forgotten image, Victor’s eyes are locked with Yuri’s. Victor looks entranced, enticed, enamored. He looks the way Yuri always felt around Victor, those first few weeks and months in Japan. 

Yuri’s teeth clench and tears roll over his cheeks. “I’m so sorry for the way I treated you when...” He turns his head away, sniffles hard to suck up the shameful tears. The phone switches over to video now, and it screams “BE MY COACH VIKTOOOOR!!!!” echoing around the walls. 

Victor’s had enough and reaches for the phone. 

“Give me that.” 

“No! I want to remember!” Yuri squirrels the phone in both his hands, turning away to stare at it like the One Ring of Sauron. 

Victor’s hands slam the edge of his bed as he kicks his feet over the side. “What you _want_ is to keep punishing yourself and to turn these happy memories into bad ones!” The Russian rises and makes a grab for the phone. Yuri holds it away, dodging, his neck still craning to see himself gyrating against Victor’s pelvis in front of Yurio and Chris and the whole damn universe. 

Then his neck whips around, his watery gaze shines through those big blue frames, pleading: “Oh God, Victor, tell me I wasn’t hard in this video!” Victor straightens, taken aback, his eyes wide, heart fluttering. This is the first time Yuri's ever said anything so directly sexual in Victor's presence. And he blushes. Yuri slams the phone face down, gripped in his fist. “Tell me I wasn’t… just… _sexually assaulting_ you right there, in front of everyone!”

Well, that ruined the moment. Victor shakes his head dismissively, ignoring that foolish outburst, and grabs Yuri’s wrist, yanking for the cursed device that caused all this. “That’s my phone and those are my memories,” there’s a coach’s authority, a stronger man’s resolve in his growling demand: “Give it back to me, now.”

Yuri grapples his way to standing, pushing Victor’s shoulder with his free hand. 

Victor falls back onto his own bed, but not before successfully wrenching the phone from his fiancé. “BE MY COACH VIKTOORRRRR!” still blares from the device, as the video is somehow on a loop. 

Yuri grabs one of his own pillows, wads it up in a fist and punches it with the other fist. He lets out a sob as the blow connects. “Fine! I hate myself enough for the both of us,” he bitches, tosses his glasses on the end table, then flops back down on his mattress with his back turned to Victor. 

The coach grinds his teeth, but says nothing in response to Yuri’s tantrum. Instead, he leans back against his headboard and flips through the pictures, until they make his cheeks tight in an uncontrollable goofy grin. The memories are so vivid. He can smell the food in the banquet hall when he looks at these pictures. He can smell Yuri’s musk, as the young stranger’s body whips around the pole and gets drenched in champagne. Victor licks his lips and clucks: 

“Honestly, this revelation of yours makes me happy, Yuri."

Yuri’s shoulders shrug further into himself as he curls in a ball around the pillow he was punching. Victor waits. Finally, Yuri snorts and grunts: “Oh yeah? How’s that?” 

“At least now I know you weren’t being a dick to me at the hot spring,” Victor grabs a takeout chopstick from the night stand between their beds and tosses it at Yuri’s back. It strikes his shoulder blade and flicks off onto the floor. Victor’s voice is smiling when he chides: “Not letting me sleep with you, refusing to tell me anything about yourself, cutting me off when I tried to talk to you about me…” 

Yuri spins around and his tear streaked face knocks Victor off guard. 

“Oh crap! I’m so sorry, Victor!” It’s all making sense, clicking for Yuri all at once. His big fat stupid tears won’t control themselves. “You kept touching me all flirtatiously! I thought you were making fun of me!” he clenches the heel of his fist up between his eyebrows, hanging his head in self-loathing. “I thought you were some bigshot playboy bullying me for my shyness!” 

“I can see that now,” Victor’s tongue, as silver as his hair, coos and soothes, “Please don’t cry. You know I'm useless when you cry.” 

Yuri laughs at the irony of acting like a little bitch right now when: “The whole time I was the asshole!” Yuri drops his face in both hands and shakes his head, feeling like he might puke. 

Victor grins and blushes. “You were my Eros, yes.” 

Yuri looks up abruptly. Understanding clears all of his features and a calm comes over him: “I was, wasn’t I?” Victor simply nods, his lids low. Yuri’s shoulders square suddenly with decision. “I want to remember,” he demands, standing up and reaching a hand down to Victor. 

“What do you…?” but Yuri pulls Victor up and begins to force his coach to dance. 

“Put on some music, will you?” Yuri murmurs close to Victor’s ear as he spins him around the beds and into the hotel room entryway. “What were we dancing to that night?” 

Victor laughs one big “HA!” and begins to take the lead, twirling Yuri away. Then, releasing him, “So many things,” he looks down at his phone, “Let’s see…”

Yuri takes the moment to caress Victor’s face like in one of the photos. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” he muses, his thumb tracing up Victor’s cheekbone, “I can’t believe I’d already done it! Over a year ago!”

Victor leans his head into Yuri’s hand. “And not once since,” he grins, “You’ve truly deprived me, Yuri.” It would be a lecture, but Victor is smiling and blushing too hard for it to sound like anything other than a benediction, a song of praise, a hallelujah. 

Yuri looks down at Victor’s phone and sees a playlist called ‘Yuri’s songs.’ 

“Are you kidding me?!” he tries to grab the phone. 

“Look, I was yearning for your affection and you ignored me.” He smirks at Yuri’s eyes of apology. “I needed a reminder of what we had at the banquet last year.” Victor turns himself in Yuri’s arms, tilts his head back onto Yuri’s shoulder. “So, yes, I downloaded every song you danced to at the dance-off.” Yuri laughs softly, trying not too, his arms flex around his coach with the effort. And Victor sounds positively gayer than he ever has when his defensive octave jumps: “So what?! I was lovelorn!” He tries to pull away.

Yuri laughs, squeezing Victor once, and begins to sway their hips again, “You said you didn’t hate me!” 

The Russian hangs his head. “That’s not the same as saying I wasn’t hurt.” 

Yuri leans into Victor, brings his chin up over Victor’s shoulder, mouth close to Victor's lips, “I’m so sorry. I truly had no idea. You were all I wanted, and there I was… you were already mine… I just forgot!"

They spin some more around their makeshift dance floor, occasionally looking at the photos and attempting to perfectly recreate each pose. “And then it was like this…” Victor instructs Yuri, with his coach’s voice, and moves him as they moved together last year in the dance-off, to the same songs. This way, then that way, just like it was. Yuri loves this education and occasionally pulls for the lead, takes them off on a different course, just for fun. He pulls Victor in, face to face, then cheek to cheek, he can’t look in Victor’s eyes when he admits: 

“When you were trying to get into my room, into my bed, so we could sleep together at my place, I was so happy, so very happy you were there. I couldn’t sleep, just for sheer joy knowing you were in the other room. I couldn’t imagine the euphoria of you actually sleeping in the same room with me.” 

Victor's heart swells. Each of those first nights, he wrestled with himself, tossing and turning, clinging to Makkachin, wondering what _he'd_ done wrong. The image of sleepless, gleeful Yuri is so counter to the version Victor experienced that night! Victor laughs so hard, he pulls them down onto the scratchy old carpet to try to catch their breath. 

After several minutes where all the tension in the room dissipates like fog in the morning sun, Victor chuckles up at the ceiling. “Yes,” he says as an exhale of air. And bites his lower lip, waiting for Yuri to ask:

“Yes, what?” 

“You were hard.” Victor turns his head, his eyes shoot right through into Yuri’s brain stem. Then, Victor’s smile is unusually sheepish. “In the video. Not fully. But… aroused… yes.” 

Yuri’s eyes are laughing, but his Eros lips pucker with a taunting sneer, “That’s why you blushed in my arms?” It’s a different Yuri voice, the one that yanked Victor by his necktie, rink-side. 

Victor swallows before answering, “No one’s ever come at me like that…” 

The true Eros answers: “Made you feel vulnerable, did I?” That tone weakens every defense, tears away every insecurity, and tightens every thread of fabric in Victor's pants. The Russian wets his lips, his breath is shallow and hurried. He won’t unlock his eyes from Yuri’s, not now. He squints, shrugs his shoulders, and scoffs: 

“Sure. Once. When you were drunk.” 

The spell is broken. The challenge accepted. Yuri’s eyes flash wild and he pounces, rolling on top of Victor, straddles him, pressing angry digits down deep into those wide, meaty shoulders. “Oh yeah?” he barks, mocking, and grinds his hips into Victor’s pelvis. “Just the once?” 

_Fuck, Victor’s not going to survive this!_

_But this is what he’s wanted the whole damn time!_ When he stood up out of that hot bath eight months ago, he expected Yuri to react exactly like this. He’s been waiting for that sexual beast he met at the banquet to come out from under the façade of some simpering, standoffish, stranger. But then, he discovered his Yuri was both Agape and Eros and now he loves the complete identity. 

Victor’s hands slowly find Yuri’s, and clasp, interlocking their fingers; a peace offering. He rubs the fingers of their right hands together so that they both feel the weight of their new golden rings slide against one another. Victor smiles up, his lips reaching, pursing. 

Yuri responds by slamming Victor’s hands up above his head, scuffing the skin of his taut forearms on this cheap, shitty carpet. His right palm holds both of Victor’s hands down, while his left hand gently grasps Victor’s chin. “Did you get this move,” Yuri demonstrates with his thumb sliding up Victor’s lips, pulling the lower one down, just a bit, “From me? Did I do this to you, that night?” Yuri has felt the pad of Victor’s thumb pulling at his lips for seven months, since Victor teased him about confidence on the ice back home. He needs to know where that came from. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” and Victor easily wrests his hands from Yuri’s grip and bucks up his hips, nearly knocking his would-be captor away. “You’ve always been mimicking me, little piggy.”

Yuri emits a guffaw that incapacitates Victor. The laugh is filled with so much sincerity, and relief, it’s contagious. Victor can’t help but chuckle, too. He reaches up and runs a hand through Yuri’s hair. “There now,” he soothes, “See? Does it really matter that you don’t remember seducing me our first night?” 

Yuri considers and rocks himself lightly over Victor’s not-so-prone form. “I only wish we’d gotten to this part sooner, is all.” He cups Victor’s cheek in his palm, running a smooth thumb over the edge of Victor’s eye socket, as though wiping away a tear that isn’t there. 

When they kiss this time, finally both sides of their story revealed and mutually understood, it’s better than the first time, better than the live TV kiss. They know each other now. 

Their knowing moves from the floor to the bed. 

There is no more darkness. They are unstoppable.

**Author's Note:**

> I use the spellings of Yuri and Victor found on this site: yurionice.com/en/  
> I love the "uu" and "k", just used to seeing them this way. 
> 
> THANKS for reading! <3 ~ Sintina
> 
> I recommend my fav YOI fics and take requests at [Twitter @Sintinas](https://twitter.com/Sintinas)


End file.
